


The Doctor, the Loser, and the Paladin

by elegia (starcrawler)



Series: It Gets Stranger [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M, Kinda bad, M/M, Multi, original draft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 21:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21434785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcrawler/pseuds/elegia
Summary: The original concept of "The Dark Side of the Moon.”I never took this quite seriously, and I began the entire chapter again from scratch, so please don't flame me lol.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, The Losers Club (IT) & The Party (Stranger Things)
Series: It Gets Stranger [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491377
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	The Doctor, the Loser, and the Paladin

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of the True Knot going after the Losers and the Party was an idea that had interested me for a while. I began writing this "chapter" on October 6, 2019, just for fun, and I kind of let my pen, or I suppose my fingers, flow whichever way they wanted, leaving me with this mess.
> 
> I decided it was far too directionless and bloated, so I scrapped it and started "Then Came the Last Days of May," which became part of "The Dark Side of the Moon." I only recently found this thing on my Drive and decided it was worth sharing.
> 
> This was originally supposed to tie in to "Bill Denbrough Beats the Devil (III)," so some things are just not gonna make much sense.
> 
> It's gonna get kinda funky and pointless and you're gonna go "This is shit." Have fun reading.

1

_ Hawkins, May 1989 _

Richie Tozier and Mike Wheeler, brothers of all but name, stared at each other stonily as they pressed their ears against the door to listen in on the conversation happening in the adjacent room.

“Maggie, you have to start eating. I mean: look at you. This is ridiculous,” said Karen Wheeler.

There was silence for a brief moment, and then, “I’m trying. I am. Really. I’m just never all that hungry anymore.” That was Maggie Tozier.

“That’s not an excuse,” Karen chided. “Have you tried talking to him?”

Maggie sniffled, and Richie closed his eyes. “I-I can’t. I can’t! I can’t face him!”

“Maggie, you have to. We both know nothing’s going to get better until you do. I honestly don’t think he’d be that angry at you anymore if you just _ talked _to him.”

“I-I-”

“Okay, what’s wrong right now? Why are you so scared of your own son? Don’t give me that look Maggie. I might have birthed him, but he’s your son. If he really is Mike’s brother he would love you no matter what you do. He might have a hard time forgiving you; but he’s still your son. Trust me.”

Maggie breathed deeply. Richie stared hard at the spot on the wall behind Mike’s ear. He was honestly ready to cave, to talk to his mom again, but everytime he almost made the decision he filled with a hurt anger that always made him incapable of reconciliation._ Why should I, the kid, be the one carrying the entire relationship? Mom messed up, not me. I don’t owe her nothing. _

“Just-Just give me some time. I need time. Once the kids get back from Europe I swear I’ll talk to him. I swear I will. I swear. I swear,” Maggie croaked desperately.

“Woah, okay, that’s okay. Just breathe. Breathe. Yeah there we-”

Richie peeled his angry face away from the door and stormed quietly down the stairs. Mike followed him frantically.

_ “Hey, where are you going?” _ he hissed.

“I’m just so done with her.” Richie whipped around, forcing Mike to halt on the stairs. “She’s-she’s such a _ coward _. Why the fuck do I have to be the one who does all the thinking at home? God!”

He marched outside the Wheeler residence and grabbed his bike from the lawn. He mounted it quickly and sat there, unmoving, not knowing where he wanted to go.

“You wanna come with me to visit El?” asked Mike calmly, mounting his own bike.

Richie sighed. “Fine. But I swear: if you go all gooey on each other like last time I’m leaving.”

They biked slowly towards the cabin. The sun stood directly overhead, its heat beating the necks of both boys. Richie’s was already sunburnt from refusing to wear sunscreen when he and Beverly had tried learning the moonwalk on her lawn after seeing it on MTV (“How does he do it?” Beverly gasped with astonishment as she jerkily slid backwards looking like she had a stroke) and from when he had somehow agreed to join Mike Hanlon on his farm to help pick carrots.

Neither boys spoke as they pedaled slowly, the heat causing their faces to glisten within minutes. _ It’s so damn hot. From the position of the sun, it appears to be noon _ , Richie thought sourly. _ I bet Mike’s thinking that right now. God what a nerd. _

Richie snorted, and Mike glanced at him weirdly.

When they finally arrived at the forest, both boys audibly sighed with relief as the shade provided by the trees acted as a balm of sorts on their reddened skin.

They biked all the way to the cabin. Mike hopped off right before they reached the tripwire, but before he could signal Richie to do the same, Richie had ridden completely over the string, causing a loud _ Snap! _ to ring throughout the forest.

“Um, what was that?” Richie asked nervously as he sat completely still.

Mike palmed his face. “That was the tripwire.”

“And how come I’m just hearing about it now?”

“You’re not. I told you about it months ago.”

“No fucking way, dude. I-”

They both jumped when a loud boom sounded from the cabin. They whipped around to see Jim Hopper standing in the frame, looking rather intimidating on his own, and much more so with the shotgun in his hands.

When Hopper saw Richie and Mike, he lowered his gun. “Oh, it’s you,” he said gruffly.

“Yes, it’s me,” said Richie cheerfully. “I brought Mr. Loverboy to visit your daughter.”

_ “I told you not to call me that,” _Mike hissed.

Hopper grunted and retreated into the cabin. The boys stared at his retreating back.

“Is he usually this grumpy?” Richie asked Mike loudly.

Hopper suddenly reappeared at the door. “You better put that tripwire back, Wheeler.” He disappeared again.

Mike shot Richie a warning look. “Yes, he is. Now be polite and don’t embarrass me,” he said quietly.

“Tall order, pal-”

Richie yelped as a sudden blur collided with Mike, knocking him on his back.

The blur was, of course, one Jane Hopper, still clad in her pajamas, who now lay atop a flustered Mike, their faces only inches apart.

“Hi…” she breathed. Her breath smelled of eggos.

“Hey…” he breathed back. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Ahem.” Both Mike and El got up quickly and with red faces when they remembered they were not alone.

“Well, well, lady, ahn’t yah gahnna give me a welcome too?” Richie drawled.

El hugged Richie tightly, her heart feeling fondly for him despite also still feeling rather frightened by him; he and his sharp edges were just so different from Mike, who was so safe and soft.

“That voice was bad,” she said bluntly as she pulled away from the hug.

Mike snorted as Richie placed a hand on his heart. “Good golly, Miss Molly! After everything we’ve been through? I practiced that voice so hard just for you!”

By now El was well-versed in the art of irony and wit, taught to her by Dustin, who said her usual teacher “has the humor of a cardboard box,” and so she smiled appreciatively. She glanced at Mike, who nodded encouragingly, and her heart soared.

“Well, are you planning to let the mosquitoes eat you alive or are you gonna come in?” Hopper rumbled from inside the cabin. The kids looked at each other and laughed.

“So, El, are you ready for Europe?” Mike asked excitedly as the three kids and Hopper sat tightly together around the dinner table.

“Remember: you boys and those two redheads better take good care of her or I’ll-” began Hopper.

“-draw and quarter us,” both Richie and Mike finished.

“We got it, Mr. H. There’s nothing to be worried about. El’s safety is in our care,” said Richie reassuringly.

Hopper gave both boys a once-over. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

“Yes. I already packed everything. Except clothes,” said El, ignoring both of them, eyes fixed on Mike.

“Y’know it’s kinda weird how it’s only our friends and Troy who are going on this trip. It’s almost like the author just didn’t want to write them all,” Richie mused.

“Um…What?”

“Okay, go over the plan right now,” Hopper ordered the boys.

“El is your recently-found daughter. She was the product of an affair between you and one of your old flames,” said Richie, tacking on the last part impromptu. Hopper glared at him.

“She’ll be joining us next year so you thought it would be best if she went with us on our trip,” Mike continued. Hopper nodded.

“She lived most of her life in Belgium-”

“Denmark!” Hopper barked.

“-Denmark, so her English is not as good as everyone else’s.” Richie rolled his eyes.

“And we hung out with her all year because you wanted her to have friends, and we got really close, which is why we’ll be so protective,” Mike finished.

Hopper grunted and returned his focus to his food, signalling that the grilling was over. Mike sighed in relief.

“Y’know, I just can’t wait to go to Barcelona. I heard it’s so hot you can’t wear anything more than your underwear!” exclaimed Richie, wiggling his eyebrows.

Mike punched him, drawing an “Ow!” Hopper gave him the evil eye, while El looked confused.

“Oh, boy,” Mike muttered. “A week of this. I can’t wait.”

2

“Okay, luh-het’s try that wuh-one again,” Bill said feverishly.

“Bill, I don’t think this band thing is gonna work,” said Lucas wearily.

“Wuh-What?”

“Well, none of us can sing. And it’s only you, me, and Ben. That’s only three people.”

“What’s ruh-wrong w-with that?” Bill asked defensively.

“You can’t have a band with only three members, dude!”

“The b-Bee Gees d-did it!”

“But if you wanna get big, like Beatles big, you gotta go with four. There’s nothing better than four band members.”

Bill sighed, knowing Lucas was right, and Ben got up from his drum set and patted his back soothingly.

“Know if-if anybody e-else p-plays an i-instrument or s-s-sings?”

“I know Dustin plays the harmonica but that’s pretty lame. I think he’s the only one,” said Lucas dejectedly.

“Well you thought wrong, Stalker,” said voice from the Denbroughs’ garage door.

The boys whipped around to find Max leaning against the wall, a look of professional boredom etched on her face.

“W-What can y-you p-play?” Bill asked desperately.

“I can play the bass,” she offered. “And I can kinda sing.”

Bill’s grin was growing ever wider when Lucas grabbed him and Ben each by an arm and pulled them aside, calling “Just give us a moment, please!”

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked quietly once they stopped moving.

_ “‘What’s wrong?’ She’s a girl!” _Lucas whispered heatedly.

“So?” Ben asked.

“Dude, s-s-she’s yuh-your guh-girlfriend,” said Bill, unimpressed.

“I know, I know! But only boy bands get big. Think about it. The Beatles. The Rolling Stones. Pink Floyd. Led Zeppelin. The Smiths,” Lucas listed.

“We cuh-can be luh-like th-The c-c-Carpenters o-or th-the muh-Mamas and the p-Papas,” Bill offered.

“They’re not that big, though!”

“F-Fine. _ You _ r-reject m-Max, then,” Bill snapped.

Lucas’s eyes widened comically, and he whipped around. “Okay. Show us what you got.”

Richie and Mike were biking home during the golden hour when they heard a gutteral screech reverberate through the cul-de-sac. They stopped.

“Umm…” said Mike nervously.

“What the fuck was that?” Richie asked, pushing his glasses up his face.

They both jumped as they heard it again.

“What the…”

Cautiously, Mike dismounted and walked his bike forward.

_ “Mike,” _ Richie hissed, but Mike ignored him. _ Goddammit. _Richie groaned and dismounted as well and followed close behind.

Mike’s mind whirred with theories and conspiracies. Was it something from the Upside Down? Perhaps a demodog or something? Or maybe that clown that the Losers always talk about?

They approached Mike’s house and saw the culprit behind the awful sound: Max’s bass.

“Okay, o-okay! That was guh-good!” Bill called.

“Wow, we’re gonna be big!” said Ben.

“Really great job!” said Lucas, clapping Max on the back, who grinned.

“Aw-Alright Max, yuh-you’re in!” said Bill impressively.

“Oh, thank you!” Max cried happily.

“Is this the band you were telling me about, Bill?” Richie asked.

All the band members turned and saw Richie and Mike standing on the Denbrough lawn, looking amused.

“Hey guh-guys. Yeah, i-it is,” said Bill, grinning.

“What’re you guys called?” Mike asked.

They all froze.

“Um…” said Ben. They all turned to Bill, who looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Aw, c’mon Big Bill! You know the name is, like, the most important part of the band!” said Richie gleefully.

“We-We’re gonna cuh-come up with a n-name r-right now,” said Bill firmly, coming out of his trance. He walked up the stairs to the house.

“Uh, we are?” asked Ben.

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry,” Lucas whispered to Max as they walked to the stairs, “He’s always kind of like this.”

Once they all left, Mike leaned over to Richie. “How long until they break apart?”

“I’ll give it two months.”

“Aren’t you generous.”

3

“Oh man, this feels amazing!” Eddie cried as he emptied his backpack into the trash can.

“I know something that feels better,” said Richie slyly while he did the same.

“Please don’t,” Stan sighed as he put his backpack on.

“Just stick a finger up your ass. No joke.”

“What did I just say?”

“Your parents killed Jesus, Stan. I’m not taking advice from you.”

Richie didn’t want to say it; hell he wouldn’t even admit it in his mind. But he was starting to get tired of Stan the Man being either a complete ass or complete downer all the time. It was starting to make him mad.

They, along with Bill, stood at the front of Hawkins Middle School on the final day. It was scorching hot, and all the boys had soaked their shirts in some way, especially Bill, who had chosen to wear a button-down.

“Wuh-What do you guh-guys wanna do?” Bill asked.

“I dunno,” Eddie replied. “I kinda wanna drop stink bombs on Troy’s house, but…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Richie devilishly.

“R-Richie,” Bill sighed. “What duh-did you duh-do?”

“Here. C’mon.”

They walked back into the school.

“Remember, Richie,” said Eddie nervously. “We’re not gonna bully other people.”

“Oh he deserves it after what he did to your aspirator,” said Richie calmly. Inside he was seething.

During mathematics class last Friday, Eddie dropped his aspirator when the person behind him, James, rammed his desk into Eddie’s chair, causing him to drop his aspirator. Troy, who according to him had been “just walkin’ by, just minding my own business,” stepped on it, crushing it completely. Richie was grateful that machine that ruled Eddie’s life was now gone, but it was still an unforgivable act, what Troy did.

They walked to the boys’ locker room, and silently, Richie opened the door. When he opened it, they all heard a loud “Help!” It sounded a lot like Troy.

The boys exchanged a glance.

They walked in, and the moment they did, Bill lost all orientation as something heavy slammed him against the lockers.

“Bill!” Eddie cried.

Bill struggled against the fleshy weight, guessing correctly that it was James. He managed to slide out from between the lockers and the body, which closed the new gap by slamming hard against the lockers. Richie grabbed Bill by the arm and pulled him aside, causing him to gasp in pain as something in his arm spasmed.

“You’re so pathetic,” came Troy’s voice.

“Come out, Troy,” said Richie angrily.

“You tried to play my game and you’re really bad at it,” Troy continued. “You can’t just steal my clothes and get away with it, bitch.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Troy was charging at them. He was shorter than Richie, now the tallest of the bunch, but he was far heavier than all of them. Eddie and Stan ran out of the way, and Richie jumped aside just as Troy was upon him, causing him to crash face-first against the wall.

“Run!” Bill cried, and the four boys spilled out of the locker room and into the halls, capturing many curious glances, one of which being Beverly Marsh.

“Um, what happened?” she demanded.

“Oh, um…” Richie gasped.

With his good arm, Bill slapped Richie’s.

“Ow!”

“Dude, wuh-what the _ f-fuck _?” he asked angrily.

“I didn’t know, okay?” Richie said defensively, rubbing his arm.

“Guys?” Beverly said.

“Richie, I really appreciate it,” Eddie began. “But that was retarded.”

“Thanks, Eds.”

“Don’t call me ‘Eds.’”

“Guys!”

The boys all turned to look at Beverly, whose eyebrows were raised as high as they had ever been. “What the fuck happened?”

The boys glanced at each other.

“Let’s guh-go buh-back t-to my p-p-place first.”

4

“Alright, do we have everybody? Yes? Okay—Dustin put that away, please—Say goodbye to your parents everybody! Okay everybody let’s board! Next stop: London, the United Kingdom!” cried Mr. Clarke, who wore an “I Love London” shirt.

Bill glanced at the crowd. His mom (his dad couldn’t make it to see him off at Indianapolis International Airport) waved with half-hearted sentiment. He sighed and waved back. He glanced at his friends. Everyone was hugging, Mrs. Byers was hyperventilating, and Hopper was crying.

_ Georgie woulda cried, too. I bet he would. And I bet if he cried she might’ve too. _

He, Troy, and Richie turned before the rest of his friends did and followed Mr. Clarke towards the gate.

“Passport?” the sour-faced and balding man at the ticket counter drawled.

Bill handed over his passport, folded in which was his boarding pass. The man stamped it and handed it back to him.

Without a word, Bill walked into the jetbridge with his bag.

“So, what’re you freaks gonna try to do on this trip?” came a voice from right behind him.

Bill jumped and looked behind him. Troy sneered at him while speeding up until they walked in line.

“S-S-Shouldn’t you buh-be letting your muh-mommy pinch yuh-your cheeks right now?” Bill asked cooly.

Troy’s cheeks flared. “Cuh-Come uh-again?”

Bill raised his eyebrows and didn’t speak. Troy smirked.

“Well, Porky Pig, looks like we’re gonna be sitting together on the flight, huh?” Troy grinned evilly. “We should try to get along, yeah?”

“Th-That’s yuh-your choice.” And with that Bill forced his longer legs to go faster, leaving a surprised Troy in his wake.

“You better watch yourself,” said Richie cheekily as he passed half a minute later and pushed Troy’s jaw up. “A fly coulda made you choke.”

“So…” said Principal Coleman to a nervous El, who sat beside him on the plane. “I get that you are trying to come here next year. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

_ Ummm… _El thought nervously. Luckily, Dustin poked his head over his seat in the row before theirs.

“Hey Principal Coleman!” he said cheerily.

“Hi Dustin.”

“Y’know I couldn’t help but overhear your _ incredible _conversation with El here. Y’know what they say…um, uh…hahaha-” said Dustin, sounding quite confident at the start but growing more and more nervous as he spoke.

“What Dustin was trying to say was that El here is from Denmark, so she might not understand everything you say,” said Max, who had hurried over when she heard Dustin’s floundering. She could see his grateful face in her peripheral vision. “And Wheeler is supposed to be her personal translator.”

Principal Coleman raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You and Michael know Danish? I do too! Well I must hear it! I’ve always wanted to converse with someone in a Nordic tongue!”

Dustin and Max exchanged panicked looks.

There was a loud grunt from behind them, and they turned to see Beverly rubbing her fist while Will groaned, hunched over.

“Mr. Coleman, I think Will’s gonna be sick!” cried Beverly. She put the back of her hand on her forehead. “Oh I feel so faint! God, somebody help him!”

_ “Why do I always get the nuts?” _Mr. Coleman muttered as he got up and pulled Will up from his seat and led him to the restroom.

“Will he…” asked El concernedly.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine,” said Max nonchalantly. She turned to Beverly. “Nice punch, by the way. And nice acting.”

“Thanks. You guys really backed yourselves in a dead-end.”

“It’s called ‘keeping things spicy,’” said Dustin haughtily.

Beverly snorted. She turned to glance at Bill on the right aisle scribbling furiously on his notebook while Troy peeked over his shoulder and failed to look unimpressed each time. She felt her heart pound furiously.

“You guys wanna switch seats?” she asked.

When Principal Coleman returned, supporting a pale Will, he did a double-take.

“Hey Principal Coleman,” said Mike casually, sitting where Principal Coleman had just sat minutes ago. “El told me she feels real bad about her English and she wants to sit next to her personal translator.”

El nodded vigorously.

“Wha-puh-” Principal Coleman sputtered.

“C’mon Principal Coleman,” said Will weakly. “Don’t you want her to feel welcome and confident next year?”

“I-”

“I brought a couple of books with me for this flight. I see you didn’t bring any entertainment. Would you prefer _ Brave New World _ or _ The Great Gatsby _?” asked Principal Coleman cheerfully.

“Neither, thanks,” Troy snarled, still rubbing the spot on his arm Beverly punched to get him to change seats.

“So,” asked Beverly, bouncing nervously in her seat, “What were you drawing?”

“Oh, um…” said Bill, blushing hard.

“C’mon, Bill! You know you can show me!” she said earnestly.

He sighed. He opened his notepad with careful fingers and showed Beverly his illustration of a futuristic cityscape.

“Oh, wow! That looks real good.” she gasped. “Why were you not gonna show me this?”

_ ‘Cause this wasn’t what I was drawing earlier, _Bill thought but declined to say. He could still envision the imperfect lines and contours of her face on a different page.

His relationship with Beverly was rather strange. He had had the biggest crush on her since the summer of ‘87, now two years ago, when they faced off It and survived. He remembered they’d kissed, but nothing came out of it. Then they moved to Hawkins, and nothing happened at all. In the back of his mind there was a faint memory of dating her later that same year, but he could not remember if it had really happened or was just another dream.

“I dunno,” he said. “I’m juh-just not th-that p-p-proud of th-this one.”

“Well I think that’s stupid, Bill.”

“What?”

“I don’t think you should price yourself based on what other people think.”

_ God I wanna kiss her. _

“Yeah, I nuh-know.”

“Now c’mon. Let’s get some sleep.”

A few aisles down, Mike and El were locked in a fierce kiss, complete with tongue and heavy breathing.

“Jesus Christ,” said Dustin angrily, looking over the back of his seat. “If you’re gonna make out at least do it quietly.” He turned back around and sat heavily on his seat, huffing.

Mike and El looked at each other. Mike could tell El had a question by the way she raised her eyebrows so cutely.

“What is it?”

She smiled gratefully. “Mike, what’s ‘make out?’”

“Uh…”

5

“Do you have anything to declare?” asked the lady at customs, staring at the twins standing before her.

“No, ma’am-” began Mike.

“Yeah, we do. _ Independence _,” said Richie smugly.

Mike facepalmed.

“Alright. Enjoy your stay,” the lady sighed.

“Woah,” Beverly breathed as she stepped out of Heathrow Airport.

“You think this is impressive, Beverly?” Mr. Clarke grinned. “Just wait until we get downtown tomorrow.”

“Wow!” Beverly said to Eddie. “You hear that? ‘Downtown!’”

“Mhmm. I hear you, Bev.”

“Alright, anyone missing?” asked Mr. Clarke, looking very energized, like he had not just sat through ten hours of a plane flight. “No? Alright, let’s go to take the tube!”

Richie turned to Mike and leaned close. “The _ tyube _.”

“No, it’s ‘the _ tyuube. _’”

“Fuck out of here.”

“I can’t believe I’m taking the London Underground!” cried Ben. “It was founded in 1863, during the height of-”

“Alright, Haystack. That’s enough of that,” said Max.

“Oh, sorry that not everyone’s into being ignorant, Mayfield,” said Mike loudly.

“Oh, sorry for not being a nerd, Wheeler.”

“Here we go,” Richie muttered to Bill, who snickered.

Their bickering continued through Mr. Clarke buying tickets for them all and showing them how to use them. They entered the soonest train, paying no mind to which one it was and letting Mr. Clarke decide which one was their right one.

“Oh, well let’s see, Max. I got a hundred on the final, and what did you get?”

“I got a ninety! That’s not even bad! Plus, good grades don’t mean intelligence. You’re proof!”

An old couple looked at them with distaste. _ “Americans.” _

“Here’s our hotel!” cried Mr. Clarke grandly.

None of the Losers nor Party members wanted to hurt Mr. Clarke’s feelings, but Troy had no such qualms.

“This place is a dump,” he said bluntly.

“Well, Troy, whatever you think of it, it’s gonna be our home for the next three nights, so you’re gonna have to suck it up.”

“Ohhhhhh,” said Dustin. “Lick it, Troy!”

“Thank you Dustin. Now, let’s get checked in.”

They entered the dingy lobby with a single television playing an interview between two people in suits Beverly did not know.

_ “ _ _ Larry, the country is losing two hundred billion dollars a year. Two hundred billion. This country cannot continue to lose two hundred billion dollars. Japan is one of the wealthiest machines ever created _ _ ,” _said the golden-haired man in the screen.

“He-He’s guh-gonna be b-big one d-day,” Bill said to Beverly, who had been watching the interview intently.

She glanced at him. “How’d’ya know?”

“I duh-dunno. J-Just a f-f-feeling, y’know?”

“Mhmm.”

_ “ _ _ But, Donald, a lot of people feel the way you feel. And a lot of people maybe with as much money, or certainly some people with as much money feel the way you feel. Why did you go public? _ _ ” _

“Alright, guys. We’ve got the rooms. Boys, we have nine of you so it’s gonna be three rooms, three per room,” said Mr. Clarke. “Room 201: Lucas, Will, Ben. Room 205: Mike, Bill, Eddie.”

Richie’s heart sank. “Dammit, Eds!”

“Ha! I don’t have to room with you! And don’t call me ‘Eds.’”

“Room 206: Troy, Richie, and Dustin.”

All three boys exchanged looks. Dustin and Richie met eyes and turned towards Troy, grinning devilishly. Troy gulped.

“Boys, you can go unpack. Remember: dinner is at six. I mean: eighteen o’clock. We’re gonna not be Americans for a week!

“Alright, girls. We have fewer of you, only three. So we’ll just have you all in the same room, 204. Here’s the key. This’s gonna be the same for Paris and Berlin, too.”

“Whoo!”

The girls all rushed to their room with their bags. The room was a bit dim, with a Victorian wallpaper and modern lights. It wasn’t a good combination.

“Alright, ladies,” asked Max. “What’d’ya wanna do?”

Beverly glanced at the services sheet and blushed. “Oh my God,” she said.

“What?” asked El.

“They have

6

a fucking condom service!” Richie cried with glee.

Dustin laughed. “Let’s order a couple.”

Troy stared at them. “You guys are so weird.”

“Why thank you, sire,” said Richie, bowing low. “A compliment to a serf as lowly as I from a lord as mighty as you is a treasure indeed.”

“Okay,” said Troy, sighing. “We’re gonna have to get along these few days, so let’s be nice, yeah?”

Dustin glanced at Richie, then turned back to Troy. “We outnumber you, Troy. If we’re nice to you, that’s because we want to, get it, you son of a bitch?”

“And I think,” said Richie smoothly. “You can make sure we’re in a good mood by apologizing to Eddie for breaking his aspirator.”

“So who ordered condoms at the hotel?” Principal Coleman asked casually during supper.

They were in an old restaurant, with a wide and spacious ceiling, but only one story. The sticky wooden floors stuck to Bill’s shoes as the entire group walked over to their table. Everything had a medieval feeling to it: the windows, the candles on the wall, the outfits of the servers.

Beverly spat out the water she had been drinking all over Mike and began coughing. Bill clapped her back.

“You-You can see that?” Beverly choked.

_ “Oh, jeez,” _ Richie muttered. _ Oh fuck me. Wait, Bev? _

“Yes. We can see all your transactions at the different hotels so something like _ this _doesn’t happen. We know which room you’re in, by the way, so we basically know who did it,” said Mr. Clarke sternly, a faint glint in his eyes being the only sign of his amusement.

Just then one of the condoms that Dustin had filled with tap water in his hotel bathroom slipped out of his pocket and plopped onto the floor.

The group stared at it for several moments. “Well,” said Principal Coleman after a while. “That’s about as much as I wanted to deal with today.”

“Okay, so that’s one room,” said Mr. Clarke. He turned towards the girls. “So which one of you ordered them in your room?”

By now Max was glaring at Beverly, who was turning the color of her hair. The boys laughed, El looked confused, and Will shook his head.

“Cuh-Could we nuh-not talk about th-this?” Bill groaned.

Richie tapped Beverly’s shoulder. _ “So forward, Bev. You’ll have him in no time,” _he whispered, winking. She slapped his arm.

“My God, this is amazing,” said Troy, eating a strange purple-grey blob.

“Oh, Troy,” said Mr. Clarke, looking pleased, completely forgetting the condom business. “I’m glad you’re really starting to understand British culture. Not that many Americans can appreciate bone marrow.”

“Bone…Oh God.”

“Folks, it’s about twenty o’clock right now, so we have a lot of time before curfew. Go look at the city; take in some of the rich culture here. Remember to take the right train back to the hotel, and give yourself plenty of time. I’ll check in at around twenty-three, so be back by then. Have fun guys!” said Mr. Clark cheerfully.

**Author's Note:**

> You can see some similarities between the actual thing and this draft, so I guess it wasn't completely useless. Overall though, the tone and the direction was completely different.
> 
> Let this serve as a warning to all writers: a decent idea can be made into complete garbage by bad writing and poor organization, as this was. The cake will not taste good if its layers don't, and this works in a similar way.
> 
> So remember: while the story is important, and must be something people want to read, the finer details are just as, if not more important.


End file.
